Delay

“God answers all prayers”, my mother used to tell me. “Sometimes He answers yes, sometimes no, and sometimes wait”. Although I’ve seen Him answer in the affirmative many times, I’ve often experienced the wait, and sometimes even more vividly the “no”.

Pre-COVID I traveled and served in other parts of the United States and the world. A few of those trips subsequently ended in disaster! I don’t believe my prior presence there was a causative factor, but it is curious to me.

During a medical mission trip to Jamaica one summer, I found myself in the middle of a hurricane. As I ran down a Kingston street towards my hotel, my umbrella inverted, which I immediately released and kept running towards shelter—or so I thought. To this day, I can’t comprehend how my hotel bed became soaked with the windows closed!

In Haiti, one October, I lived in an orphanage with approximately 200 children. It was a remarkable experience where I, along with a team of various health professionals, rendered care to them and local villagers. Some of those same children nursed me back to health after I became ill from a parasitic infection. A few years later, the now infamous earthquake destroyed their village and none of the children survived.

Antigua, Guatemala, was where I lived with a local family to immerse myself in the Spanish language and culture. I enjoyed walking the ancient cobblestone streets and conversing with the locals. My school was in view of Mount Fuego—“fire mountain”, a supposedly dormant volcano. I would gaze for extended periods of time at its striking, yet ominous, allure. Only once do I recall viewing its peak, as clouds otherwise obscured it. Imagine my utter dismay as some years later, I learned of its eruption and destruction of the beautiful city in its wake.

Obviously, not all of my stories ended in peril. One such adventure hinted of disappointment, but God, in His wisdom, had other plans. It blessed me to serve with a sizable group as a lay evangelist in a country I had only read about as a child. They assigned me to a church in a small farming village. For approximately three weeks, mostly every night and twice on Saturdays, I presented a series of health lectures and preached the gospel of Jesus Christ. My host pastor translated for me. My vocabulary was rapidly expanding and I could converse in brief bouts of colloquial phrases! Yes, I had prayed and still pray for the gift of tongues.

One night, as I waited for my transport back to my hotel, I received a text from a young man who apparently had been attending the meetings. He expressed an interest in the messages and asked very pointed and probing questions. “Here is a seeker”, I thought to myself, and obliged him in our ongoing text dialogue. Though motivated, he did not commit at that point.

During my last sermon, I made a heartfelt and tearful appeal for those that had heard the messages and felt convicted by them through the Holy Spirit, to make a public declaration to continue their spiritual journey with Christ in their newfound truth. A handful of people came forward. This young gentleman did not. As I glimpsed him in the audience, I made a few targeted and prolonged appeals, doing all but calling him by name. He did not respond. A different young man came. I finally ended the sermon and sat down.

As I returned to the United States, I often prayed for my friend and kept in contact with him via social media. Eventually, he shared with me news and photos of his subsequent marriage and the birth of his children. Interestingly, he often asked when I would return to his country. Unfortunately, as customary with the passing of time and distance, my contact and prayers diminished, but God’s interest and love did not.

To my surprise, recently I received a text message from my young friend. It was now almost five years since my visit. The picture he sent showed a group of people who stood in a church sanctuary. I recognized the scene. It was the church where I had preached. However, something was different and very special about this photo. There he was, smiling and standing next to his wife, both about to be baptized by immersion as per Christ’s example (Matthew 3:16; Mark 1:10)! In amazement and almost disbelief, I had to re-read his message and enlarge the picture. “Praise the Lord!”, I exclaimed.

I shared the picture and good news with my host pastor. He reminded me of the apostle Paul’s injunction found in I Corinthians 3:6. I knew and had recently read the passage. Now I understood it in a new light. “I have planted, Apollos watered; but God gave the increase.”

All glory be to God—I’m a “farmer”!

Katrina

Life experiences are unplanned. It is not as simple as plotting a course, establishing a starting point, and then reaching one’s destination. This may be one person’s experience, but it certainly has not been mine. Sometime ago, I came upon a passage in the second chapter of the book of Daniel, which stated “And he (God) changeth the times and the seasons: He removeth kings, and setteth up kings: He giveth wisdom unto the wise, and knowledge to them that know understanding” (verse 21).

As I reflected on the passage, it reminded me of two additional verses that have been my life’s beacons. Lamps, if you would, to my feet and lights for my path. These are Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the Lord with all thine heart; And lean not unto thine own understanding. In all thy ways acknowledge him, And he shall direct thy paths,” and Jeremiah 29:11-12 “For I know the thoughts that I think toward you, saith the Lord, thoughts of peace, and not of evil, to give you an expected end. Then shall ye call upon me, and ye shall go and pray unto me, and I will hearken unto you.”

Hard as I have tried to determine my own life’s course, I have found that letting God lead me has always yielded the best outcomes. I reflect on a course change that, in retrospect, significantly altered my life for the better. As a first-time young medical executive for a small specialty hospital, I took part in negotiations for the restructure and merger of the medical staff with a nationally known tertiary hospital. Towards the end, they offered me a lucrative salary, high-level position, and an opportunity for even further advancement at the larger institution. After much prayer, I not only turned down the offer, but subsequently resigned from my post. Although I did not know, this was to be a most pivotal move for me personally, professionally, and even spiritually.

My first new assignment was a staff position with a different specialty hospital, during which I embraced an opportunity to train in emergency preparedness. No sooner had I completed my training, when I joined a conglomerate of medical and military personnel to provide relief efforts during the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina.

Katrina. There are not too many words that evoke the depth and latitude of emotions like this one. For some it is literally a visceral response, which engenders heart wrenching anxiety. For others, it reeks of a politicized disaster. Taking part at ground level, I witnessed firsthand the superiority of nature and the power of the United States military. As I escorted displaced families and cared for their children, it reminded me of how blessed I was at that moment, but also how fragile was the element of time.

We are all one catastrophe, one disaster away from life-altering circumstances. Displacement, disease, and death lurk at the periphery of each person’s life, yet often unbeknownst to them. These post-disaster experiences have engendered a resilience not otherwise thought possible. The camaraderie of people from different backgrounds fostered this resilience in part, walks of life, goals and aspirations who step forward and shoulder the responsibility of assisting others not as fortunate as themselves.

Last week, 16 years to the day, Hurricane Ida struck with almost as much ire in New Orleans, Louisiana. For me, it brings back bittersweet memories of the time I spent serving with total strangers, who became friends, more than friends. How these events simultaneously divided a nation and banded others together is unclear. I was fortunately on the latter side of that coin.

I invite you to consider your opportunity for service during the current Hurricane Ida relief efforts. You may not provide “boots on the ground”, but your tangible contributions to any of the relief organizations would speak volumes.

Of course, your prayers for the residents are immeasurable.